Into the Shadows
by Deimus Underdark
Summary: Death was not the end. At least, not for them. Rated T for blood, murder, and future Gore. May change to M from the Gore.
1. Introduction

**So this was originally posted on the fan fiction forum. No luck there, as you guys might guess. So, Ill try my hand here!**

**Hope you enjoy.**

_Into the Shadows_

_Introductory chapter_

The institute was peaceful at night, it was said. That much was mostly true. But of the peacefulness of the champions mind, that is another matter entirely.

It was once told by wise men that the best way to strike an enemy is from behind. The back was a strategic position for the hunter. A weak spot for the prey. It is the place the heart fears the most and the place the mind never neglects to try and remember. And while one can feel safety from behind another, he cannot neglect the need to protect his own. If he fails to do so, he instantly seals his fate to a fateful minute, never to see a second after ever again. But as the connection to the world fades, so does the pain. And death, in the end, becomes like a mothers embrace.

But not to them.

A champion feels the pain his body takes long after the fatal blow. And the seconds still waver after that. There is no embrace of death. Only the most resilient can face the cold and helplessness they face in their doom. Yet even the most strongest cannot avoid madness.

The exile knew so.

She had seen death, but not only on the fields. In the Noxian campaign against Ionia, she was an executioner, not a warrior. She was ordered many a time to kill captured men, women, even children. She had seen her entire squad, and that of the enemies, turned asunder by the machines of Zaun. And even after these ordeals, she would still see death ahead, waiting to finish what a mad chemist could not.

And yet, she still kept her sanity.

She had worked for a goal, one that was a lie. She had fought for an Ideal, one that was false. She had survived what came at her for a purpose.

A purpose that was never true.

Deep inside her, whether she liked it or not, Riven knew that the Noxian ideal was never true. There was never a 'Pure version' of the ideals she once worked for. The truth was far from that.

She was afraid.

Afraid of what?

Those who ask such a question never know what the core of our existence is. It is intangible. A whisper in the loud wind. And only the wise know what it truly is and what it means.

What is it, you may ask?

A purpose.

And what she feared was the lack of it.

In death, we leave behind many things. Our accomplishments, our loved ones, our bodies, and our legacy. But Riven was there, dying. What did_She_ leave behind?

She felt the darkness creep onto her like a slithering snake, preparing to swallow its victim whole. The blade had lodged deep within her. Blood walked down the corridor like a calm river. Such a sight would cause a mere mortal mind to fall into a rapid spiral of disillusion, madness, and ultimate oblivion.

Yet she still held on.

Her assailants face, the words that she heard. She tried to keep calm and remember. She wanted to remember the bastard who did this to her.

But all she could see was the blurry image of a hood, holding darkness from within.

Finally, it was to much.

A scream echoed down the halls before her last thought went bleak.

_I need reason..._

* * *

**And so it begins.**

**Apologies to all Riven fans who might have found this offensive. But the human mind works in so many strange ways. The creation of a false purpose is one of them.**

**As for the Noxian Ideal part... I was completely honest about that part.**

**Think of it like this:  
If there were no weak, then what was the use of the strong for?****  
I am not pointing this out in the perspective of the balance(Which I think is a lie made by the Kinkou for control). All I am saying is that all things MUST HAVE OPPOSITES.**

**So, I hope this was not offensive to any of you. I am a writer, and like one great writer said:**

_**A writer is someone who has signed a contract with his conciseness.**_

**Or it goes something like that. I forgot the name of the writer and the full quote. All i remember is that he is Russian and that he married an actress.**


	2. Chapter 1

_Chapter 1_

The streets of Noxus were unforgiving. A death note to those who enter. The roads have certain senses that leave it unforgotten even by the sane who leave, only to return again for another shot at the forsaken place called home. The scream of the unfortunate, the swish of looted coin, and, of course, the dripping of blood.

Yes, there was crime as usual. Another day in Noxus.

One could almost forgive these people for their heinous crime. The path to power in Noxus is one that will not change course or even end till someone had blood in his hands. To establish a terror like figure is impossible by today's standard if you chose to let your enemies live. He who walks this path must also be prepared to throw behind all sense of justice and honor, for this sacred twain are but weakness to they in higher places. To assert one's self in the world of politics and power in this forsaken place will require a soldiers discipline, untamable strength, and of course a kind of blood lust that would send the echo of ones name leave all who hear quake in fear of his coming.

It is a custom, however, that when those who reach their position of desire to leave all that they have done behind and relax. After all, who would dare touch them? What fool would even think of giving their meaningless, pathetic existence a chance to rise from the ashes and hope for a burning glimmer of hope and strength, enough to save their life at that fatal minute when the fabric of their ties to this world tend to yield to such enormous pressure? In the end, they were the strongest, and they have proven it far enough.

But not to him.

To him, the path to strength never ends.

To him, one must always hone his skill to remind those around him of his power.

To him, only the living will listen to the tales of his assassinations.

And that, by far, was enough.

_*Tap*_

*Tap*

*Tap*

The blades shadow was pulled back to reality at the sound. An seemingly impatient figure was standing adjacent to the side of the roof Talon had taken. It motioned to him to come.

It was time for pay.

Talon jumped to the other side, almost losing his footing when he landed on the railing. He adjusted himself and looked around. The fire escape that would lead upward had collapsed sometime before. Looking up, he jumped a little backward, grabbing the above railing. Pulling himself up, he jumped over it and walked up the remaining stairs.

"Your getting slow, assassin." Said the figure, looking the opposite direction of the fire escape. "You better get your skills up if you plan to leave the city any day now."

"Say's the old man who had to teleport because he was to lazy to even 'walk' up the stairs." Replied Talon.  
Silence had fallen on their lips. Only the sound of Beatrice cawing at the insult was on their ears.

"You should be glad," Swain said, turning to face Talon. "That Darius is not here to rip you apart. I need the likes of you around." The Tactician walked towards his hired blade. "But remember: I may not be Du Couteau , But I am still the one who owns this city. And if you do not do as I say, then I will have you and all alive in your house executed. Do I make myself clear?"

He thought back for a moment before giving a nod of understanding.

"Good. Now you have killed the exile, I have no doubt, Correct? I want a full summary of what you did and how."

"Pay."

An aura of green power started to surface.

"She had the window open. It was easy to get inside. She awoke before I could make the kill, however." He raised a hand to the Grand General, seeing a hint of an attack. "So the first attempt failed. She attacked me, but I was able to get behind her and land a blow."

"And she died?"

"No."

"My patience, assassin, is getting thinner and thinner."

"She tried to fight back, swinging her blade a bit. In the end, she landed on the wall and bled to death, to exhausted to make another move. Someone was coming from the corridor, but I managed to sneak away before they had discovered her body."

Swain went into deep thought, though the green aura was still sending a threatening pulse to the Blades shadow.

"You have left nothing behind? No evidence that it was you?"

"None."

The aura faded in an instant.

"My thanks for cooperating, Assassin. You have done a great service."

The Master tactician lifted his and and pointed to the murderer.

"Take him away, Men."

Before Talon could react, he received a sharp blow to the back.

The rest was a blur.

* * *

He is being dragged by two people to a cart.

"This weakling is surprisingly heavy." Said one of them. His voice was deep, like a Generals.

"Wait," Said the other one. "I think he is awake."

Talon received another blow. This time harder.

"Trash."

* * *

He felt the constraints first.

The assassin wrestled with the bindings as soon as he noticed them. He was in a dire situation. What did Swain want? He had fulfilled the contract! What was the problem then? What was going on!?

He stopped his struggle when he realized that there was no hope of escaping. The room was dark. He had no Idea about where his stuff was. He had lost his weapons and gear. His clothes were gone. He was dressed instead with pants, his torso completely bare.

"I see we have awaken now, have we." Said a heavy Zaunite voice.

Talon tried to find the source of the voice, yet for some reason even the single lit lamp did him no good at all in this situation.

"Do not worry. This will all come to an end soon."

The roar of a machine was heard.

"Take the designated piece off, would you my sweet?"

Before Talon could understand fully what was going to happen, two metal hands grabbed onto his right arm.

His scream echoed back and forth through the place.

"Ah, the pleasing sound of success." Laughed the voice.

Soon, Talon's thoughts went bleak.

* * *

_**Consequence.**_

A van is moving through what seemed a twisted jungle.

_**By definition, an event or condition to a choice made by an individual. Whether the intention of the choice be good or bad. It is as some say: Lying about consequence is an error that cannot be undone.**_

The van slowed from its fast speed.

_**Indeed, no other words could be true.**_

The van comes to a halt.

_**For now here lies a wronged man.**_

The one of the men on the back picks up a body.

_**Wronged by his own choice.**_

The body is thrown onto the ground.

_**He chose this path, lying to the people he cared that there would be no the consequence.**_

The van's driver picks up an object that shines with the nights moon.  
He throws it to the body.

_**He made the mistake by forgetting that nothing of him would be left behind to tell his tale to the living world.**_

The van drives away.

_**And now...**_

A wolf howls in the distance.

**_Only the dead will listen._**


	3. Chapter 2

**"Did Deimus leave this dead?"  
NOPE! CHUCK TESTA!**

Sorry I have not been updating for you guys. I was busy studying for my drivers test(Perfect Score). This story really means much to me. I want to do this pair justice. So, after as far as chapter 4, I will be rewriting the badly written Chapter 1.

But for now, lets continue our journey... Into the Shadows...

*Slapped for bad joke*

_Chapter 2_

Void.

The feeling was unshakable. It was an opened hole in the heart that would never fill with the same joy it once had. The people who fill such places are close as impossible. For pain such as this does not fade away, but remains. All one can do is hope that it lessens to move forward in life. But only the brave have the will to do such a feat.

But... Was she not brave?

-

Lux hated the rain.

The hatred did not steam from the simple fact that it made her neatest clothes wet. In fact, she once loved the rain. When she was young, she would jump and run across the puddles and streams that formed and return home to get an earful from her mother and father. Her brother, however, understood her. He defended her many a time against the hate of others. Though this did not apply to their parents, it did to all who wished ill of her. He was a role model to her. Honoring the family, defending your allies and friends, and giving the best to your people was something she took to the heart. She believed in these things almost more than he did. She loved him. Adored him.  
She wished her life, although not perfect, to stay as it is.

But then, as time went on, everything she knew took a new meaning.

The day her father died was a day when the rain played her a sad tone. A beginning to the end of her mother died soon after, she soon started to feel not only sadness to the rain, but rage. When she found her brother, head bowed and soaking in the rain looking at the grave of long gone soldier, she urged him home. He grew sick and got a fever that lasted for days. He got better, but he changed. Everyday, when he was on the battlefield far far away, she would await, fearing the inevitable breakdown that would come the moment his lifeless corpse returned to Demacia.

From then on she hated the rain.

Every single drop of it.

-

When she met Riven, she found her savior.

The exile was unique, in more ways than one. Her life was almost like a fairy tale, but it was real. She was counted dead, but was more than alive. She was loved and hated, guilty and innocent. Soldier and murderer, monster and savior. Riven was someone who, despite all that came, tugged forward. She saw death in the eye many a time and lived to carry a piece of the other side, locked in her mind by the blood of fallen soldiers. She was mostly a silent warrior who walks a path in the middle. She was almost the perfect stoic. But when Lux looks into her eyes she would see, even for a second, a lost that never felt home since a day from that moment of home.

When they met, it was a strange situation. An exile of Noxus who personally executed many innocent Ionians, speaking with a Demacian royalty that defended the crown? Indeed, the media would press on this issue as many from home. Yet none came to a full conclusion on what the nature of their relationship was.

Most times, a cherry feeling rose in Lux's heart during their conversations. Riven always listened. Really listened. The first to ever listen to her ever since her brother went to join the military. But they never really spoke about their city states. Riven was neutral according to the league, but she considers herself a Noxian above all else. Lux did not hate her country, but still wished she had the freedom from before she joined the military. It was a silent taboo between them which they never minded.

In the end, there were none other that Lux could count on as much as Riven.

-

She cried.

She cried out all the hatred and agony she buried deep inside her as the rain fell upon the graveyard.

Her brother hugged her tightly in an attempt to calm her of the vile situation laughing in her face.

"What did you say?! Don't be fooling around with us, boy!" Yelled a very angry summoner.

"I'm not lying!" Replied the one in question. "I swear! The body... The coffin itself is gone!"

They searched for days at an end to find the body.

Nothing came up.

-

**And soooooo it continues!**


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N: From time to time I will try to write long chapter. But for now, you will have to bear with me on these short ones.**

_Chapter 3_

**"When mortals die, it is the saddest thing to see that their bodies are handled such..."**

_"Creatively?_"

**"You and your sick ways, brother. You can keep your words to yourself."**

_"I merely speak for the truth, brother. We both knew her body was going to be taken and..."_

**"SILENCE!" **the younger brother cowered from the others wrath.

**"This cannot go any longer. What they have done to her, a peace maker, and to her killer..."**

_"The assassin?"_

**"Yes. The bloody assassin. Remind me to check if he has awakened."**

_"Yes, brother. You were saying?"_

**"The mortals, especially the dark one, need to be taught a lesson."**

_"But to judge them by a single crime committed for so long by other infidels? Besides, there are worse creatures that dwell in the darkness. The nightmare, for example."_

The Eldest grunted at the memory of the nightmare.

**"They are different. They were born and raised to do such acts, never given the chance to be different. But the mortals are choice makers. The path they walk is their own. They built it through the eons that they lived."**

**"Besides,"** he said, raising his hand. **"There is more than meets the eye to this case."**

_"What will you do?"_

**"What I do best."**

Thunder roared throughout their reality.

**"Judge."**

* * *

The swish of the door and the clutter of dust was all too familiar to the assistant.

_'My master is a strange man of sorts.'_ he thought. Indeed. The laboratory was always dirty, lest you count the table, for the dirt that thrives upon it was the spilled blood of either dead or agonized victims. The walls were lined up with cans and jars filled with the remains of desecrated corpses. It was always a simple procedure. Get the body, hide the coffin, bring the body here and stay at the side in case his services were required. Anyone would have been disgusted with such a vile occupancy. Yet the assistant did not mind. In fact, he relished the slow slice of the knife across the skin and the sticky sound of removed tissue. The soundless movement of the arms, the careful, no, loving placement of the organs within their forever crypts would always leave the assistant stunned. No matter how many times the waltz was repeated, he was always dazed.

He looked to his left and jumped at the sight of the machine.

He quickly calmed down and patted the metal butcher.

"Miss me, Jack?"

Jack. The name awoke the machine from its slumber. Upon gazing for a moment at the assistant with its glowing yellow eyes, it quickly embraced him in a bone crushing hug. Its eyes flickered green.

"Ill take that as a yes." he said, chuckling.

"There is no time for your dawdling, young one! We must proceed at once!" Piped up a heavy Zaunite voice.

The assistant looked towards the open door to see his master, a man of high status, who wore nothing but a recently cleaned lab coat. His hair was ash white, and his strides were strong and bold, no matter what the situation.

"Grab the corpse!" yelled the master.

The assistant nodded after being released from the giants hug. He went to the fridge.

And opened.

* * *

"News flash! News flash!" Piped a boy on the streets of Noxus. "Two bodies found in a lair deep in the nearby jungle along with the remains of a robot! The bodies were crushed and burned! No survivors! News flash!"


	5. Update on the story

So through our good friends here on fanfiction, I was shown the flaws of some of my writing(Grammar). So ill tidy that part of the cabin when we reach somewhere in the near future.

Another thing I would point out is that the lack of action will be coming to a close. So don't fret on the issue guys.

Unfortunately, there will not be a chapter today. I will try to upload one tomorrow, but first I will have to decide on which of the scenarios will I chose to write about.

Sorry and thank you for reading the story till this point.


	6. Chapter 4

**Sorry about the long wait! But im just trying to juggle between to fanfics(One is starwars, the other is this). But im back and sooooooooo we continue!**

Into the shadows...

*Slapped again*

Other story: .ca/2013...

* * *

_Chapter 4_

Her eyes opened. And all that remained of the daylight was vanishing by the second.

Riven found herself running. Her boots dug beneath the soil, leaving a straight forward path to whatever was after her. She stumbles, catching herself before falling face first into the dirt. The exile heaved herself onto her feet, realizing that she had little to no energy. She was week, vulnerable.

And what sought after her was pleased by the display.

She barely heard a snarl before a sharp pain latched onto her neck.

Riven gritted her teeth. The pain did come, no doubt about that. But it passed through her flesh for a second before subsiding. She was suddenly rising, much to the surprise of the attacker. She threw her hands onto the assailants head, finding it fury, and latched on. At that moment, Riven felt the creature dig deep into her skin, trying to cut her breathing.

With all the might left in her body, she threw the creature forward, head first into the ground.

The teeth of the wolf never left her skin, as it showed. Riven felt the cool breeze suddenly turn to frostbite for the exposed part of her neck. She prepared a stance even through the pain, raising her hands to her chest level and spreading her fingers apart.

The wolf appeared unfazed when it hit the ground. It simply rolled back onto its feet, shaking its head before tasting the skin in its mouth. It eyed Riven before it threw her neck skin away, attracted by the blood coming down the exile's neck. Their eyes interlocked as they circled each other. Riven kept an eye at the wolf and realized its deadliness.

This was no normal wolf. It was large, about fourty inches tall shoulder height. Its teeth, which it bared from moment to moment, were relatively small and excelled at crushing bone, as Riven guessed from her limited knowledge of these creatures. Its claws were as large as small kitchen knives. Its shoulder were broad. Most of its body was covered in scars, revealing a legacy of ancient battles for the infinite struggle of survival.

There was a good distance between them. None of them could move without the other realizing it.

The wolf bared its teeth before Riven caught its sudden movement. It started to charge towards her, its head to the side aiming to her weak spot. It snapped its teeth in anticipation for the chance of tasting her flesh.

Riven charged as well, closing the distance between them.

* * *

It was over.

The body fell lifelessly to the ground when Riven let go of its mouth. The head fell face first into the ground, earning another familiar bone crushing snap Riven forced onto the beast not seconds ago.

Riven crouched down to the body, examining her handy work by raising the wolf's head. The busted jaw merely hanged high.

The exile then fell backwards, exhausted of the ordeal. Lying on her back, Riven looked into the stars of the night.

It became apparent to her that she had no memory ever since her 'death'. When she forced her way into her memories, she would see a mere blur before being shut off of them again. It took effort to open her mind and the result was always the same.

She sighed, deciding to get up and find shelter for the night before finding a city. Riven looked at the body, realizing that if this was the hunting ground of the wolf, then it must have some kind of shelter.

She grabbed the body and heaved it onto her shoulders, realizing the light weight of the large creature. She stumbled for a moment, but quickly regained her composure before moving forward into the darkness beyond the trees.

All this, and yet she never realized the pain in the back of her neck was gone.

* * *

The meat gave her a temporary vigor.

After finding a cave which might have belonged to the wolf, Riven quickly started a fire and made a feast fit for a king. Afterwards she threw the remaining pieces in places far away from her own as to keep unwanted attention of other creatures of the night.

She returned back to the cave and took out the fire with dirt before laying down on the ground for sleep.

Only one thought suddenly appeared and made her lose the sleep she needed.

_Where is my sword?_

* * *

**Well... That was not as good as I wanted. But it still works.**

As for Talon... Hes dead for good!

IM JUST KIDDING he'll have an entrance into the main character privilege hall.

So hope you enjoyed the story. Read and review please and I hope you guys have a good day.

CHEERS!


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